


In my willful and savage soul's volition

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Basically PWP, M/M, Sex in clichéd places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 9: Finrod/Curufin for Silje. </p><p>Finrod wearies of ceilings</p>
            </blockquote>





	In my willful and savage soul's volition

Finrod studied the designs carefully, hands splayed on the table as he bent over the sheaves of paper. “…these are quite extensive. I’m impressed, Tyelperinquar.” 

Celebrimbor flushed, but looked pleased, ducking his head as Finrod rolled up the designs and passed them to an aide, who took them away. “I’m glad they’ll suit.” 

“They shall suit very well.” Finrod smiled warmly and laid a hand on Celebrimbor’s shoulder. “You are proving yourself invaluable to us.” 

Curufin narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t missed the slight shiver that had run through his son’s body at Finrod’s touch, and he lifted his voice now, noting how Celebrimbor tensed, as if only just remembering his father was in the room. “It is good to see you making practical use of your time. Perhaps you are finally learning how to focus on the worthwhile projects and leave the frivolities.” 

Celebrimbor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at his father. “I should go. Gwindor mentioned some repairs that need attention on the Eastern Gate.” 

“Then by all means don’t keep him waiting,” said Curufin softly, and Celebrimbor turned jerkily to leave. 

“Thank you again,” Finrod called, and Celebrimbor’s face lit briefly as their eyes met. 

“It was nothing,” he said, and hurried from the room. 

Curufin leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes on his cousin. “What is your game?” 

Finrod didn’t answer, still gazing thoughtfully after Celebrimbor. “You are too hard on the boy, Curufinwë.” 

Curufin snorted. “And you are too soft. I see what you’re doing, you know. You think you can win his loyalty with gentle words and sweet smiles?” 

“It is not hard to win loyalty with kindness,” said Finrod crisply. “Believe it or not.” 

“It is a weak sort of loyalty then,” said Curufin. “A shallow loyalty, based on flattery and lacking in any depth or passion.” He lowered his voice. “Watch how you go with my son, Ingoldo.” 

“He is a good lad.” 

Curufin laughed. “In spite of me, you mean.” 

Finrod looked at him for the first time then, his blue eyes very clear. Curufin found himself shifting in his seat and stilled, annoyed. “Yes,” said Finrod at last. “In spite of you.” 

“I wish you the best of luck with him then,” said Curufin. “But I should warn you that however you coddle and woo him into listening to you, he is  _my son_  and blood will out.” 

“Do you ever get tired of ceilings?” asked Finrod, not apparently listening. 

“I – What?” Curufin frowned, caught off guard. “What nonsense are you talking?” 

Finrod raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I sometimes feel that – for all the beauty in these halls –they are closing in around me. And I realize how long it has been since I walked in the fresh air, under the stars, not merely their feeble lantern reflections. So long since I listened to the sounds of birds and running water and not just their echoes and reverberations. How I miss it.” 

“You are a terrible sentimentalist,” said Curufin, but was privately put in mind of things that Celegorm had said to him on more than one occasion. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” said Finrod, and sighed. “I spend such strength and energy establishing these halls and then all I can do is chafe to be free of them. What hypocrisy. But I suppose fighting it is futile – even the best of us must yield to temptation at times, don’t you think, Curufinwë?” 

“What?” Curufin felt nettled. “What are you on about?” 

“Let’s go for a walk,” said Finrod, and stepped around the table. 

“What – Stop doing that,” said Curufin. 

“Doing what?” 

“Leaping around like in conversation like– You and your ridiculous non sequitors –” 

“I promise this follows,” said Finrod, and smiled down at him. “I was longing to see the sky. And so I propose that we carry on this conversation – or series of non sequitors, if you’d prefer – outdoors.”

“Are you – ” 

“I can meet you at the West Gate in ten minutes,” said Finrod. “I think I shall change out of these stiff robes, but I can be quick. No horses, I think, on foot is good enough for me.” 

“You’re not even – ” 

“Ten minutes it is, then,” said Finrod, ignoring him once again, and turning to leave. “I’ll see you presently.” 

“I haven’t even said I wanted to go,” said Curufin, but found himself talking to the empty room. “Damn you, Ingoldo.”

 

-

 

In something less than ten minutes, he found himself waiting at the West Gate, prickling with a feeling he told himself was annoyance but was something closer akin to anticipation. 

It had been closer to fifteen minutes since they parted when Finrod appeared, clad in green and brown, in simpler clothing than Curufin had seen him in since – since they had been children, surely. 

“How uncharacteristic of you,” he said as Finrod joined him. “Not a bauble or frill, most restrained.” 

“I know, it’s rather refreshing, isn’t it?” said Finrod, not noticing the tone and smiling guilelessly. Curufin found himself struck by the simple lines of Finrod’s throat, no longer hidden by the gleam of the Nauglamír, and somehow even more compelling in its absence. 

“Shall we?” said Finrod, and strode out, not waiting for Curufin to answer. 

Despite Finrod’s promise of continuing their conversation, they spoke hardly at all as they made their way through the silent woods, following the sound of running water until they traced a slender tributary of the Narog to a clear pool. 

Finrod sighed happily and cast himself down on the bank of the pool. Curufin folded his arms. 

“For a great king, Felagund, you look rather like an over-eager child.” 

“I know,” said Finrod, and stretched. “It’s quite liberating having no one watching you.” 

“ _I’m_  watching you.”

“So you are.” Finrod looked up at him and tilted his head. “Are you waiting for something, Curvo?” 

“What?” Curufin felt unsettled again. “No.”

“Hm.” Finrod turned his attention to the pool and began loosening the laces of his tunic. 

“What are you – ” 

“I’m going for a swim.” 

“You  _are_  a child, Ingoldo.” 

“Perhaps.” Finrod stood and slipped his tunic over his shoulders, then kicked off his boots and began unlacing his leggings as well. 

Curufin drew in a tight breath. “I suppose you wish me to stand guard on the banks, should any foes come upon us unawares while you romp?” 

“You don’t need to,” said Finrod over his shoulder. “I’ll take my chances.” Bare, he straightened up, and shook his hair free of its braids. “You are welcome to join me.” And with that, he dove into the water. 

“Indulgent,” said Curufin, and dropped down beside the pool. Finrod surfaced, shaking his hair from his eyes, and gave him a brilliant smile. 

“What, don’t tell me you’re not tempted…” 

“By cold water and a mad king? Hardly.” But Curufin yielded enough to shed his boots and roll up his breeches to soak his feet in the cool water. It was an undeniable relief, he was forced to admit. Finrod floated unconcernedly in the pool, eventually drifting closer to Curufin. 

“You don’t want to come in?” There was a cadence to his voice that startled Curufin for a moment until realization dawned. 

“Ingoldo.” 

“Yes?” 

Curufin shook his head. “A forest pool, no guards or accompaniment beyond us two, your unashamed exhibitionism… If this is a seduction, it is a very trite one.” 

Finrod didn’t try to deny it. Instead he swam closer until he was standing in the chest-deep water, resting his arms on Curufin’s knees. “Is it working?” 

Curufin pursed his lips. “Is this how you shall deal with it, henceforth, when you tire of conversation with me?” 

“I never tire of conversation with you, cousin,” said Finrod, and smiled. He slid wet hands up Curufin’s thighs, drawing his body forward to rest between Curufin’s legs. “Will you not join me in the water?” 

“I am fine as I am,” said Curufin quietly, but his breath caught as Finrod pulled himself half out of the water, bracing his hands on either side of Curufin’s hips. He leant forward, his long wet hair dripping onto Curufin’s clothes, and gently pressed his lips to Curufin’s neck. 

Curufin let his head tip back, and his breath gusted out in a long sigh. Finrod nuzzled against his throat, mouth cool against Curufin’s hot skin. 

“I promise,” whispered Finrod, and Curufin shuddered as his lips raised goose bumps on Curufin’s skin, “you will not regret joining me in the water.” 

“You are trying to distract me.” 

“From what?” said Finrod, and laughed lightly as he tugged Curufin’s hips forward. “Can you even tell me of what we were speaking?” 

“I – ” 

“I didn’t think so,” murmured Finrod. “Now you can remove your clothes yourself, or I will remove them for you.” 

With a curse, Curufin fumbled with the laces of his tunic and pulled it roughly over his head. The breeches proved more of a challenge, but Finrod obligingly slid back so Curufin could wriggle free of them. 

“Good,” said Finrod, as soon as Curufin had shed his clothes, and pulled him into the water.

 

Curufin quickly found himself gasping in an almost embarrassing lack of self-control as Finrod sucked bruises onto his throat and pushed him back against the bank. In order to keep himself from slipping under water, Curufin was forced to grip his cousin’s shoulders, and almost without thinking he wrapped his legs around Finrod’s waist, dragging moans from both of them as they came into alignment. 

Finrod knotted a hand in Curufin’s hair, tugging his head back the better to savage his neck and Curufin closed his eyes, panting as Finrod ground forward against him. 

“I know of what we were speaking,” he managed at last, as Finrod licked a rivulet of water from his chest.

“Oh?” 

“My son,” said Curufin, and hissed as Finrod wrapped a hand around him. “You are a proven – ah – harlot, Felagund, and I will not have you seducing my son…” 

“Why should I seduce your son?” asked Finrod, in seemingly genuine curiosity, even as he stroked Curufin languidly. “I have  _you_ , Curufinwë.” 

“You do not  _have_  me,” growled Curufin, digging his fingers into Finrod’s back. 

“Do I not?” And Finrod kissed him lightly as he slid a finger into Curufin. 

“ _Damn_  you – ” Curufin subsided, gasping, as Finrod smiled his gentle, lovely smile and added another finger. 

“You don’t have to worry about me taking your son from you,” Finrod whispered as Curufin’s fingernails sank into his skin and light rivulets of blood ran down his wet back, “I do not seek to draw him to me – you simply insist on pushing him further and further away.” 

“You know nothing,” said Curufin, and bit his lip almost through to keep himself from crying out as Finrod twisted his hand. 

“I know more than you do, Atarinkë,” murmured Finrod, and kissed him with surprising sweetness as he withdrew his hand.

“No –  _please_  – Ingoldo – ” Curufin realized he was begging, but his fury at that fact was muted in the face of his desire. 

“I’m here,” said Finrod, covering his lips in another kiss, and pushing into him in one long stroke.

 

There was more Curufin had wanted to say, but it was wiped from his mind as he braced himself against the bank. Legs tight around Finrod’s waist as his cousin moved steadily into him, Curufin tangled his hands in Finrod’s hair, pulling savagely when he felt his cousin was being too gentle. He could feel Finrod’s smile against his lips, and he bit at them in retribution –  _Don’t you dare find me amusing –_

“Amusing?” murmured Finrod, thought Curufin was quite sure he had not spoken aloud. “Quite the contrary, Curufinwë – I find you captivating…” 

“Then stop being so – ” 

“I was only easing you into it,” whispered Finrod, and Curufin cursed.

“Do you take me for some tender virgin?  _Fuck_  me, Ingoldo, or – ” he broke off as Finrod gripped his hips and shifted the angle slightly and darkness blossomed behind Curufin’s eyes at the acute, brutal burst of pleasure. 

“You were saying?” 

“Shut up,” Curufin ground out, and his head dropped back against the bank. “ _Eru_.”

 

-

 

Finrod hummed lightly as he paced the grassy bank, wringing out his hair and gathering up his clothes. Letting himself dry in the air, he regarded Curufin, who was slumped exhausted against the side of the pool. 

“Don’t you wish to dress, cousin?” 

Curufin opened his eyes. “I prefer to watch you.” And indeed, Finrod made a striking sight, fair skin glowing in the dim light, his back, as he bent to pick up his clothes, ribboned with blood. His fair wet hair brushed over his skin, and the blood stained the ends red. 

Curufin smiled, even as he shifted in the water. He would ache tomorrow, he could tell. A movement over Finrod’s shoulder caught his attention suddenly, and he frowned at the inscrutable forest, but saw nothing more. 

Finrod slid his leggings over his hips and began to do up his tunic. “It grows late,” he said, glancing at the sky. “If we want to be back before – ” 

“Go on ahead,” said Curufin brusquely. “I am in no rush.” 

Finrod considered him, but didn’t argue. “I shall see you in the morning, then,” he said, and squeezed the last drops of water from his hair. 

“Yes,” said Curufin, not really paying attention, and Finrod departed. 

Curufin pulled himself out on the bank then, wincing, and used his tunic to dry himself before pulling on his breeches, leaving his chest bare. 

Then he looked calculatingly into the shadows and sighed. He braced his hands on his hips and addressed the dark canopy. “You can come out now.” 

Celegorm dropped lightly from a tree, his pale hair almost white in the low light. “That was quite the show, brother.” 

“Typical of you to think it was somehow for your benefit.” 

Celegorm grinned. “And yet benefit I did. Findaráto has a more wicked tongue than I’d imagined.” 

“I find it hard to believe it was his tongue you to which were paying attention.” 

Celegorm laughed. “Whatever part of him was making you cry out like that.” 

An unwitting shiver of memory ran through Curufin, and he felt sated desire stir once more. “You followed me why?” 

Celegorm shrugged. “You going off alone into the forest with Felagund? I know our cousin takes pride in the fact that he is no kinslayer, but I’ve never met an Arafinwion I could trust, so I thought I’d follow.” 

“Of course you did.”

Celegorm caught Curufin’s chin in one hand and tilted it up, studying his brother’s throat. He traced a rough finger along the bruises there, and smirked. “You let him mark you.” 

Curufin sneered. “He may have marked me, but I am not the one who bleeds. What of it?” 

Celegorm shook his head. “Go carefully, brother.” 

“Since when do you, of all people, advise caution?” 

“Where you are involved.” Celegorm touched Curufin’s throat once more before releasing him and stepping away. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

Celegorm smiled mockingly, following as Curufin set off back towards Nargothrond. “Of course you do. But in the meantime, I’ll watch your back.”

 “I just bet you will,” muttered Curufin, and pulled his wet tunic back over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Title from Whitman’s Calamus. Returning to my favorite homoerotic roots…  
> 1\. Now [translated into Chinese](http://lasse.lofter.com/post/1d094383_7422ce5) by Mentha!


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